


Captain of His Bobsled Team

by Leloi



Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cabin Pressure 4 Spoilers, Lots of Make Up Sex, M/M, Sherlock is Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 16:38:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leloi/pseuds/Leloi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after Sherlock jumped John is abducted and asked to treat a red headed, emaciated man who has flashbacks of plane emergencies.  Where has he been the past two years?  And will John return to Baker Street?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain of His Bobsled Team

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Mentions of suicide.
> 
> I listened to Cabin Pressure 4... and thought about how it could mesh it with Post Reichenbach.
> 
> I love writing for Arthur. ^^v
> 
> This is over 10,000 words... I wrote 2,600 of them yesterday...

The black limo that pulled up beside John Watson filled the man with dread. To be fair he hadn’t seen Mycroft Holmes since shortly after Sherlock’s funeral two years previous. But it was the idea that was annoying… that John had nothing better to do that be summoned by a black limo. It was equally annoying that just as he was about to get his life back together he was summoned by his past. John had asked Mary Morstan for a date tonight… their first. And now he had to go talk to the brother of his deceased best friend… brilliant! 

John got into the limo and was surprised to find that he was alone. No Blackberry wielding PA to smirk at him. Not that he was interested… there was Mary to think about. The ride was relatively short and the limo pulled into a warehouse. With a sigh John got out and found Mycroft waiting for him. “You know… you can probably just call me instead of sending out the limo.”

Mycroft gave him a guarded smile. “There is less chance of interception, Dr. Watson.”

“Oh? I’m Dr. Watson now?” John asked falling into step as Mycroft started to walk away. “Where are we going?”

“Someplace that requires your medical aid.” Mycroft sighed in a put upon way and continued into the warehouse’s offices. “You will find everything you need. Anything I have overlooked you can ask of the CCTV camera that will be monitoring your every move.” Mycroft stopped before a door.

“You don’t happen to have an extra-terrestrial in there… do you?”

Mycroft smirked and opened the door to reveal the room had been made into a hospital room. A bed took up most the space along with a cabinet. On the bed lay a figure, curled up and covered with a sheet so only ginger hair poked out. 

“My patient?” John asked, looking over the lump on the bed. 

“Go ahead and give him a preliminary exam. He’ll sleep through it.”

Gently John turned down the sheet and came face to face with a face he recognized. Eyes wide he looked to Mycroft. 

“Problem, Dr. Watson?”

“This is…”

“He is to be called Martin Crief.”

“But he’s…”

“Martin.” Mycroft frowned and glanced at the CCTV camera. “Until he awakens he is Martin Crief, pilot.”

John looked over “Martin,” noticing the small details he had nearly forgotten… the tip of his nose… the upper lip… the cheekbones. John pulled away and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Oh, come now, John…”

“I thought he was…”

Mycroft made a noise and again looked at the camera. 

With a sigh John composed himself and resumed his exam.

Mycroft grabbed the sheet and pulled it off the bed, revealing “Martin” as naked and vulnerable.

“You really didn’t have to do that.” John’s eyes slid over the emaciated figure in the bed. “He’s… malnourished… possibly dehydrated. I’ll start an IV drip. Why is he unconscious? Is he drugged?” 

“This is the way he was delivered.” 

“Delivered?” John gently pushed the unconscious man onto his back to check for bruises or cuts. His eyes found the off color scar on the man’s hip from where John’s own hand had stitched up an injury years before. “He doesn’t look injured.” His fingers found the pulse to be rapid. Pulling away John went through the cabinet, pulling out what he needed to start an IV along with a blanket to cover “Martin.” 

“I’ll leave you to it then. I’ll be watching.”

“Why is he here? Why isn’t he…?”

“After he is debriefed your questions will be answered. Be happy, Dr. Watson… Martin is home.” And with that Mycroft Holmes left the room.

When John finished the various hook ups he needed he sat at the edge of the bed, looking down at his patient. “Where have you been?”

^.~

“Douglas… no! No! Stop!”

John woke from his light doze to find his patient thrashing around in the bed. Quickly he caught the man’s flailing hands to keep him from knocking out his IV. “It’s alright… hush… you’re safe.”

“You’re going to crash Gerti!”

Vaguely John wondered who Douglas and Gerti were. “It’s alright… you’re safe… Martin?”

The other man finally blinked opened his eyes and focused on John’s face. “Oh my god!”

John gave him a reassuring smile. “You alright?”

“Where… where am I?”

“Mycroft’s secret hospital room in some warehouse…?” John looked unsure if that was an apt description. “Who is Gerti?”

“A plane… the plane I flew.”

“I didn’t know you could fly a plane.”

“One of the many things I had to learn for my mission. Is Mycroft around?”

John glanced pointedly at the CCTV camera. “We’re being monitored.”

“Of course we are…” The other man relaxed against his pillow and gazed at John with a small smile on his lips. “How are you?”

“I’m… surviving. I got a bit of a shock seeing you again, though.”

“How is Mrs. Hudson?” 

“I see her from time to time… I don’t live at the flat anymore.”

“Why not? I left it to you. Mycroft should have informed you…”

“No… it’s not that. I just… after you… I couldn’t.”

“Sentiment?”

“Yeah… sentiment.” John took the other man’s hand. “A pilot?”

“Tiny airline… only one aeroplane.”

“So… you threw yourself off a building to go be a pilot? Was our life together so boring that you needed a change of venue?” Just the words made John’s heart ache, remembering the pain and loss when Sherlock had fallen. To know now that it had all been a ruse… the pain was deep.

At that moment Mycroft entered the room. “Dr. Watson please wait outside.”

“No, John… Stay.” 

“I think I’ll listen to the man with the umbrella… for once.” John pulled away and left the room with a heavy heart. As he leaned against the outer wall he pondered Sherlock’s decision to go play pilot. For two years John thought he was dead when really he was off flying somewhere on a plane named Gerti. So why had Mycroft dragged him back into Sherlock’s new life? The government official did seem to have a bit of a sadistic streak. No doubt John was pulled in because he was convenient… with no thought that Sherlock’s death had broken John’s heart and damaged his soul. Rubbing his face to wipe away his demons, John headed back the way he had come, looking for Mycroft’s limo. Really there was no hope that it would be where he left it several hours previous… but John needed to make some attempt at escape from the situation. Maybe Mary would go out on that date after all… and he could forget he ever knew Sherlock Holmes as Sherlock seemed intent on forgetting John.

“Where are you going?” Mycroft Holmes demanded to know when he found John in the warehouse the limo had delivered the doctor earlier that day.

“Home. I want to go home now.”

“He still needs you.”

John turned around and gave Mycroft a scowl. “He doesn’t… not anymore. He’s a pilot now. And with some food he’ll be fine.”

“He will be returning to the civilian world once I clear his name. He will need you to help with the work.”

“Yeah? Well I’ve been doing FINE without him! He’s dead to me! I went to his funeral and threw soil on his grave. Don’t you remember that? You were standing right there!”

“John…”

“Don’t ‘John’ me! He LEFT me, Mycroft! He faked his death and went off to be a… a PILOT!”

“He was undercover.”

“I don’t care what he was!”

Mycroft glared back at John, trying to overwhelm the shorter man with his Jedi mind powers. “He did it to protect you.”

“Oh! Isn’t that brilliant! To protect me! How? By ripping out my heart?” John stomped away.

“Moriarty gave orders to kill you.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time…”

“If he didn’t jump you would be dead. Have some consideration for my brother’s sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?” John spun around and sputtered. 

“He gave up his life doing what he loved with people that cared for him. He protected you, John Watson… made sure you stayed out of the sniper scope.” 

“So he could go be a pilot?”

“That was my idea, actually. Undercover as a pilot he was sent to follow Moriarty’s web in all the corners of Europe. Who would suspect a bumbling airline pilot who had to take his tests seven times? No one ever suspected the pilot…”

“So why was he delivered naked and emaciated?”

“Naked… was a clerical error. Emaciated… I’m afraid he didn’t have the funds to feed himself properly. Oversight really… his boss was supposed to give him a livable wage. There was a misunderstanding and he was left without. He was too proud to alert me.”

John closed his eyes and imagined a proud Sherlock slowly wasting away because he couldn’t ask anyone for money. When they lived together it was John who made sure they were paid. Sherlock was hopeless without proper supervision. 

“He needs you, John.”

“I have a life, Mycroft… a girlfriend…”

“Mary Morstan? You barely know her. Your first date was supposed to be several hours ago but you stood her up.”

“No thanks to you! What if she is ‘the one’?”

“Don’t be silly, John… she is not your ‘one’ and you know it. My brother is far more important to you.”

“I wish you would stop that.”

At that moment there was a sound of something falling and a sheet wrapped Sherlock stumbled out into view. “I want to go home now.”

“Of course you do. John?”

“I would like to go home too.”

Mycroft made a call and within five minutes a limo pulled up and a driver opened the door for both men to enter the vehicle.

The ride away from the warehouse was in silence as John kept his eyes out the window. Sherlock said nothing, still wrapped up in his sheet. When they passed through John’s neighborhood he alerted the driver to pull over and opened the door.

“Where are you going?” Sherlock finally pulled out of his stupor to ask. 

“Home. I live a couple of blocks that way…” Indicating a direction John made a move to shut the car door.

“No!” Sherlock tried to push his way out of the car before John could close the door.

“What do you mean, ‘no’? I don’t live on Baker Street anymore.”

“John, get back in the car now!”

“Sherlock… I can’t.”

They stared at each other for a long time before Sherlock forced the door open and he slid out. “Fine… take me to your flat.”

“What? No!” John tried to force Sherlock back into the car.

“I have no qualms about starting a scene right here.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow and adjusted his sheet as if to prepare for action.

“You wouldn’t dare…”

The sheet fell to the ground and every passerby got an eyeful of Sherlock’s emaciated naked body. An old lady muttered about the view. Some children started to cry. A dog barked.

“Damnit! Fine! Just COVER yourself!” 

Sherlock smirked and picked up his sheet to wrap around himself. “Your place, then?”

“No… we’ll go to Baker Street. I don’t have any of your old clothes.” Opening the door John got in and made room for Sherlock to sit beside him. “Baker Street.” John informed the driver and the car resumed its previous course. “That was…”

Sherlock continued his smirk. “It worked.”

“You are insane! You’re in no condition to be out and about in only a flimsy SHEET! This is WORSE than Buckingham Palace because it’s not like you have any muscle or fat reserves to keep you warm!”

“I’m used to it…”

“Used to it? This is from the man who couldn’t bother to get out of bed without ten layers of clothing in the dead of winter?”

“My flat in Fitton was… well it was in the attic. It was freezing cold in winter and like an old stuffy oven in summer. I either baked or froze.”

“You? That’s a little hard to believe…”

“I made sacrifices, John. That was all I could afford. It was a roof over my head. My homeless network doesn’t even get that!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize… although it would explain some of your condition.”

“It wasn’t all bad. Flying was… fine. I was fed when I flew… and not all the accommodations were bad. Every flight, every mission brought one step closer to going home.”

The limo pulled up outside of 221 Baker Street and John followed Sherlock into the building.

“John… I didn’t know you were coming to visit and… who is this?” Mrs. Hudson stepped out of her flat when she heard feet in the corridor. Her eyes scanned the ginger haired man wrapped in a sheet. “That’s… is that…?” Eyes rolling back in her head she nearly fell if John hadn’t been close enough to catch her. 

John dug his keys out of his pocket and handed them to Sherlock. “Here! Go upstairs and put some clothes on. I’ll make her some tea.” Carrying the unconscious landlady into her flat he set her on the sofa and went to her kitchen. Only when he started the kettle and returned to the sofa did he find a still sheeted Sherlock staring down at the woman. “Go! Get dressed!”

“I didn’t mean to frighten her.”

“It happens when people you think are dead turn out not to be. She’ll be even more frightened if she wakes up and sees your manly bits. Go put some pants on at least.”

“No… I want to be here.” Sherlock knelt on the floor next to the sofa to watch over Mrs. Hudson. When the kettle whistled John left to make a cup of tea, leaving Sherlock where he was. When he returned Mrs. Hudson was just coming around. “Hello, Mrs. Hudson.”

“Sherlock? What have you done to your hair?”

Sherlock smiled. “I bleached it and cut it. It was part of my disguise. How are you, Mrs. Hudson?”

“I… can’t complain.” Mrs. Hudson sat up with help from both men in her flat. “Oh my… I suppose I had a bit of a shock.”

“Look… John made you some tea.”

“Thank you, John.” Mrs. Hudson took the teacup and began to sip. “Are you back now, Sherlock?”

“Yes… if my flat is still available.”

“Of course it is. Your brother kept up with the rent…”

“Of course he did…” Sherlock smiled happily and then glanced up at an irritated John. “John tells me he moved.”

“He did.” Mrs. Hudson smiled up at John. “Couldn’t stay with all of your things scattered about…”

“Of course he’ll come back too…” Sherlock announced.

“Sherlock!” John growled. 

Mrs. Hudson looked between the two men, knowing Sherlock’s brand of manipulation when she heard it. Setting down her tea cup she sat up straighter. “Now, Sherlock, you know that was not a very nice thing to do to John. He was devastated, poor dear.”

“Mrs. Hudson…” John breathed and looked away, embarrassed.

“No! Let me say my piece, dear. Sherlock… you were very naughty. Your actions hurt John.”

“But I did them to protect John.”

“Even so…” Mrs. Hudson leaned into Sherlock. “You broke his heart.”

Sherlock glanced up at John who was turning rather red.

“I had to say it.” Mrs. Hudson sniffled and took a sip of her tea.

“It’s good to see you, Mrs. Hudson… now if you don’t mind I’d like to take John upstairs.”

“Of course.”

Sherlock led the way up the stairs to 221B and unlocked the door with the keys John had given him. The living room was just as it had been left when John moved out. Nothing had been touched or moved. It may have been occasionally dusted. The dust wasn’t nearly as deep as it could be after two years of neglect. 

John stood with his back to the front door, staring dully into the room. “I should go home now… you’re safely here.”

Sherlock bit his bottom lip a moment, staring at the nervous doctor. “Hello… I am Captain Martin Crief.”

John blinked and stared back at Sherlock. “What are you doing?”

“I’m introducing myself. John Watson and Sherlock Holmes have way too much history to make this moment comfortable… but if I was someone else meeting you for the first time…”

“Sherlock you can’t just…”

“Martin.” Sherlock grinned. “Captain Crief… of MJN Air.” 

“Oh…” John looked over his former best friend. “Pleasure to meet you… Captain Crief.”

“I once landed an aeroplane on only one engine after a goose strike.” Sherlock took a step closer so he was in John’s space.

“Sounds… exciting.”

“I once wooed a princess…”

“Of course you did… she couldn’t resist your… your charms.”

“Oh I was awkward and bumbling… but she seemed to like that.” 

“It’s your cheekbones.”

Sherlock took another step so he was pressed up against John, allowing his sheet to open. “Would you like to see my aeroplane?”

John glanced down at where their chests met as if to confirm that Sherlock was indeed pressed naked against him. “I think it’s poking me in the stomach.”

“I should park it in your hanger…” Sherlock grinned. 

“Are you… trying to flirt with me?”

“I AM an airline captain after all… I’ve traveled all over the world.” Sherlock reached up and lightly cupped John’s cheek in his palm. 

“Sherlock…”

“Martin.”

“Martin…” John sighed and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “You… hurt me.”

“Don’t… We can discuss that later. Right now I want… before I return to who I was… Don’t you understand? Sherlock Holmes resents sentiment and baser instincts like… fucking. It’s messy and… and makes people idiots. But Martin… MARTIN is a normal man with normal feelings and needs. Martin would happily take you to bed with him. That’s what I need right now… John… please? Before I go back to my old life… let me have this with you? Maybe then I can explain why I did it.”

“I don’t want to go to bed with Martin! Sherlock… I don’t know him. I know you!”

“Can’t you just… pretend? I’m an airline pilot and we meet in a hotel bar… I buy you a drink… And I’m charming and funny. I ask you to come up to my room.”

“Sherlock…”

“I’ve never actually gotten anyone to follow me to my room before… so I’m very nervous.”

John sighed and leaned against the other man. What could it hurt to play along with Sherlock’s little fantasy? There was no doubt in his mind that he loved the man. Sherlock’s suicide and the resulting heart break confirmed that John had feelings for the detective. What if this was the only way Sherlock could express his affection for him? “Don’t be nervous… you’re very handsome. I’m surprised you haven’t had more success in acquiring one night stands… you ARE a pilot, after all. Many would find that profession to be attractive.”

“I’ve been busy… but you looked so handsome at the bar that I could only think about luring you up here.”

“Well… I’m lured… now what?”

“Now I have to figure out how to keep you here. Maybe I should kiss you?” Sherlock leaned down and kissed John’s lips, his tongue teasing until he was allowed inside. “Your mouth is warm and wet.”

“That’s usually how mouths are…” John chuckled.

“Unfortunately I’m already undressed… otherwise I would consider a slow strip tease of my uniform. I think I shall have to undress you instead.” Sherlock began by pushing off John’s jacket and followed that by slowly unbuttoning his button down. “Maybe as I undress you I should ask you about yourself.”

“Myself? Well… two years ago my best friend committed suicide.”

Sherlock stopped what he was doing and stared at John in surprise. “How… unfortunate…”

“Indeed. He threw himself off of a building… The image of him in a pool of his own blood still gives me nightmares.”

Sherlock pulled his hands away from John’s shirt. “John…”

“I kept thinking… ‘What if there was something I could have done?’ Because I felt like it was my fault… I couldn’t protect him enough or support him enough and he had to go and… and do THAT!” John trembled and he crossed his arms over his chest. “My support wasn’t enough… my LOVE wasn’t enough! I loved the idiot… but he didn’t care. Sentiment makes us weak.”

“I’m… sorry…”

John rubbed his face. “Not like it’s your fault… you’re just a pilot in a bar I’m having a one night stand with!” John finished undoing his buttons and began to undo his trousers. “I haven’t had a proper shag in YEARS! Whenever I dated he would show up… complete cock block! I could only wank in the shower.” John pushed down his trousers and pants, toeing off shoes before extracting his legs. “There we go… naked.”

“Maybe he… was jealous?”

“Jealous of what?”

“Of the attention you gave to your dates?”

“Nah! He didn’t even BELIEVE in sentiment… and emotions like jealousy were a weakness.”

“Then how can you claim to have loved him?”

“Well I had FEELINGS… he didn’t! And he broke my heart when he jumped.”

“Do you still love him?”

“It depends… on my mood. Sometimes I hate him for leaving me… and for being a selfish prick.”

“Sometimes? Not all the time?”

John shrugged and adjusted his stance against the door. 

“What if he came back?”

John closed his eyes and shook his head. “You’re asking a lot of questions for a one night stand.”

“Do you always talk about your exes before you shag?”

John opened his eyes and glared up at Sherlock. “He wasn’t my ex. We weren’t a couple!”

“You talk about him as if you were…”

“Shut up!”

“Defensive…” Sherlock knelt on the floor before John and leaned into his crotch, warm breath caressing the other man’s genitals. 

“I… loved him… that was all… and he broke my heart by dying.”

Sherlock took the opportunity to take John into his mouth, sucking him down to the base. As John filled out and poked the back of his throat it triggered the gag reflex and he pulled away, coughing a bit. His tongue licked at the warm, musky skin, feeling John’s shaft against his cheek as he nuzzled at his bullocks. 

“Fuck… Sherlock…” John moaned.

“Martin...” Sherlock corrected and continued to worship John’s center, suckling the tip to taste the salty pre-cum. 

“What are you doing?”

“I thought it was obvious… I’m getting to know your body.”

“Are we still… going through with this?”

“What do you think?” Sherlock swallowed John again, teasing the underside with his tongue.

At that moment there was a knock at the door.

“Shit…” John moaned.

Sherlock continued what he was doing.

The door knocked again and a tenor’s voice called out, “Skip? Are you in there Skip?”

Sherlock released John and rested his forehead on John’s hip. “Damnit…”

“Open the door, Martin… We know you’re in there.” A bass commanded in a slightly imperial tone.

With a sigh Sherlock got up from the floor.

John scrambled for his clothing, pulling on trousers and shirt. “Shit… shit, SHIT!”

“How eloquent of you…” Sherlock picked up the sheet.

“Not a bloody word you tosser!”

Wrapping the sheet around himself Sherlock opened the door. “Hi guys.”

“Hi yourself.” A tall man with silver hair pushed his way in. “Oh and you have company… yippee.” For some reason the man sounded like he was deadpanning a comedy routine.

“Hullo Skip! Wow… this is BRILLIANT!” The tenor, also tall, entered the flat and looked around with awe on his face. “Wow! Look at that! Is that a bison skull, Skip?” The man made a beeline for the skull wearing the headphones.

“Yes it is. Don’t touch it. What are you two doing here?” Sherlock demanded of the tall bass. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your little friend, Martin?” The man smirked in a smug sort of way that John decided he didn’t like.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and indicated John. “John, Douglas and Arthur. Douglas and Arthur this is John.”

“That’s BRILLIANT, Skip!” Arthur rejoined the group by the door. “I didn’t know you had a friend.”

“A very special friend…” Douglas commented, pointedly staring at Sherlock’s sheet and then noticing John’s discarded pants on the floor. “A very, VERY special friend, indeed.” 

“Douglas? As in ‘No, Douglas, stop! Don’t crash Gerti’ Douglas?”

“Yes, yes THAT Douglas.” Sherlock seemed to grow agitated and flustered.

“I’m flattered, Martin… you’ve told your little friend about me.”

“It was a nightmare actually. He hasn’t told me anything about either of you.”

“Let’s play a game… how about, ‘How well do I know Martin Crief?’” Douglas challenged with a gleam in his eye.

“John will win.” Sherlock stated as he took his Persian slipper back from Arthur.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. He’s known you for how long? …Whereas I spent the past two years at your side. How about it, John?”

John looked to Sherlock in that “Do I have to?” sort of way and he was encouraged to say something… anything. “Fine… I know his REAL name.”

“Oh, that’s easy!” Arthur stated, joining in. “His name is Martin Crief.”

“No…” John smirked. 

“Not Martin?” Douglas asked, raising an eyebrow. “Go ahead then… what is his REAL name?”

“Sherlock Holmes.”

“You’re joking?” Arthur chuckled. “He’s not… Sherlock Holmes.”

“Sherlock Holmes?” Douglas sounded out the name.

“He IS Sherlock Holmes.” John smiled and crossed his arms over his chest.

“No… because Sherlock Holmes is… well he went away. Skip has been around with us.”

“He was Sherlock Holmes disguised as Martin Crief.”

“No… because Sherlock Holmes has a hat!” Arthur insisted.

John glanced at Sherlock and then went to where the deerstalker had last been seen behind the desk. “You mean this hat?” 

Arthur’s eyes went wide. “That’s BRILLIANT! Can I try it on?” Desperately he made a grab for it and John allowed him to take it. “Wow! I’m wearing THE hat! It’s like… I’m out on a case with my blogger, John Watson. Watch out bad guys!”

Sherlock looked horrified. “John… Make him stop…”

John burst out laughing. 

“Hey WAIT!” Arthur stopped his impression of Sherlock to stare at John is surprise. “YOUR name is John?”

“John Watson.” John replied. “You read my blog?”

“It’s better than Miss Marple!” Arthur replied gleefully. “Wow… Skip turned out to be BETTER than Marple!”

Sherlock sighed and rubbed his forehead and the bridge of his nose. “WHY are you two here?”

“You’re Sherlock Holmes… You tell us!” Arthur grinned.

“Yes, Martin… tell us why we are here.” Douglas smirked.

“Caroline dragged you out to London and now you’re… just seeing the sites which for some reason include my flat?”

“Close… but, no. We were in the neighborhood because a client asked us to deliver a drugged and naked Martin Crief into his custody.” Douglas pompously looked about the room. “Then we followed you here.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be NAKED!” Sherlock insisted. 

“That’s not what I heard, Skip. They said, ‘Bring Martin Crief, bare will pay you.’” 

“Could ‘bare’ be a man named Behr?” Sherlock suggested.

“No… the man who paid us was named Mike Behr…. Oh.” 

“Yes, oh.” Sherlock sighed. 

“Well now I feel bad about undressing you, Skip.”

“I don’t.” Douglas commented from where he was investigating the wall of clues.

Sherlock glanced at John and then back at the other two. “I just got home…”

Douglas looked amused. “Of course, Martin… we wouldn’t want to intrude on your acquiring a basketball team.” 

“Skip is getting a basketball team?” Arthur looked elated.

“No, Arthur… he means… have him explain it to you later. And for the record John has ALWAYS been on my bobsled team!” Sherlock stated.

“We’ll see you tomorrow… when you find your pants.” Douglas mused as he headed for the door.

“This is brilliant! I want to come back tomorrow if I can.” Arthur followed the other man out the door. “Bye, Skip! Have fun with John Watson!” Waving he left and the door shut behind them.

“Those were…” John stared at the door.

“My coworkers…” Hastily Sherlock tossed away his sheet and fell to his knees before John, undoing the trousers once again.

“Sherlock!” John cried out and tried to move away.

“We established that I am Martin for this!” Sherlock pulled down the trousers and immediately took John into his mouth.

“They could still be outside the door!” John gasped. “Sherlock… oh, fuck… Sherlock…” Helplessly John tangled his fingers into Sherlock’s hair. 

Sherlock pulled off with a cheeky grin. “Bedroom.”

John followed the command, unbuttoning his shirt along the way. As soon as he stepped into the room he stopped, staring at the bed. It was still rumpled from two years previous when he had slept on it the night Sherlock jumped. Of course he didn’t crawl into the bed, that had been too personal, but he had slept atop the duvet, face buried in the pillows that still held Sherlock’s scent. Before he could protest a warm body pressed up against his back and pushed him forward and he found himself on his hands and knees at the edge of the bed. “We can’t… can’t do this now. We don’t have any lube… Sherlock…” 

“Martin.” Sherlock corrected and opened his night stand to pull out lotion. “This will work.”

“It’s old!” John protested. 

“Does it matter? Just go slow.” Sherlock lay on his back on the bed, wiggling to try and place himself under John’s position. 

John blinked, confused. “Wait… what were you thinking we’d…?”

Sherlock opened his legs, knees up to surround John and hold him in place. Looking up at the other man he smiled shyly. “I’ve never… But I want… Will you, John?” 

“Sherlock…”

“Martin.”

“Martin…” John shut his eyes to try and push himself back into the fantasy Sherlock was playing with. “I might hurt you.”

“I want to feel it… so when I’m sitting at the controls I can feel what you did to me and remember it.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” John opened his eyes and gently guided them both further onto the bed before he lay down in full body contact. “Even if this is just a one night stand… I would be gentle.” Leaning down he kissed Sherlock’s lips, nibbling at the lush lower lip. “Is Martin a virgin?”

“Um… Martin has trouble getting what he wants.”

“Has he ever been with anyone? Male… female?” 

“I told them four… four lovers all together including the princess… a bobsled team of lovers.” 

“And I’m on your team?”

“I numbered John Watson on my team, yes… but you’re just some man from a bar right now.”

“But we weren’t lovers…” John grunted, feeling Sherlock’s length against his own.

“I counted people I admired… Oh… Do that again.”

“So who else was on your list?” John smirked down at Sherlock as he rocked his hips again.

“Um… oh… the Woman who almost bested me… you… and… someone I met at uni…” 

John stopped and looked down, surprised. “You had a lover in uni?”

“He wasn’t exactly a lover… He never touched me.” Sherlock reached for the lotion and tried to give it to John. “Please?”

“No… wait… so he never touched you?” John smiled. “Who was he?”

“His skull is on our mantel! Please, John?”

“What?” John looked back over his shoulder as if he expected to see the skull watching them.

“He killed himself. John… John… please?” Sherlock pumped a handful of lotion and reached down to stroke John’s cock. 

John startled and pulled away, staring down at a flustered and highly aroused Sherlock. Sherlock kept eye contact and reached down to begin to finger his lower sphincter muscle. John took the lotion and pumped out a handful. His fingers followed Sherlock’s, pushing into the tight hole. 

Sherlock whimpered and pulled away his hand to watch John open him with interest. One finger became two and then three… finally four breeched him and he moaned as he moved his hips to feel John stretch him, wanting everything John gave him. 

John pulled his fingers out and lined himself up. Slowly he pushed into the tight heat and lay down upon the body beneath him. “You’re so tight…”

Sherlock wrapped his legs around John’s hips and pulled him in deeper with a happy sigh. Lazily he kissed the face above his and wrapped his arms around the other man’s neck. If he was Sherlock would he still enjoy this? Would he enjoy wrapping his legs around John, letting the other man thrust into him? Would he enjoy hearing John’s pleasure sounds… sounds he only ever heard when John wanked in the bathroom alone? Would Sherlock be horrified at how hard his cock was, tightly squeezed between two sweaty bellies? Would Sherlock shamelessly moan and lift his hips to feel John more fully with each stroke? What of Martin? Would Martin really have the nerve to lure someone to his hotel room in order to be fucked? Would it be nearly as enjoyable if the person who fucked him wasn’t John? “John…” Sherlock whimpered.

John paused in his thrusts. “Am I… hurting… you?” Words were labored between pants for air. “God… I’m sorry…. Turn over…” Pulling out he helped Sherlock onto his front with his hips up in the air. Lightly kissing an arse cheek he mounted from behind and held Sherlock’s hips. “Should… find your… prostate…” John panted as he began to thrust again.

Sherlock wanted to protest the loss of contact but then when John pushed in he suddenly saw stars. Crying out he pushed back against the thrusts and felt John’s arms wrap around his waist… one hand wrapping around his aching cock. Sherlock pushed back enough to sit in John’s lap as his orgasm overwhelmed him. His cock spurted and he leaned back against John’s shoulder, feeling an answering spurt up his arse. “You didn’t… hurt me…” Sherlock tried to catch his breath as his body seemed to melt against the other man. Kissing the other man’s cheek he rolled his head back against John’s shoulder. His mind blissfully silent he allowed John to roll him forward and then pull out. 

John wrapped his arm around Sherlock’s back as they lay side by side. Idly his fingers played with the short ginger hair. “Martin?”

Sherlock stirred and rolled over onto his side so John could spoon against him. “Hmm?”

“Don’t fly away…”

Sherlock threaded his fingers with the fingers clutching his chest. “I… have someone back home.”

John sat up a bit, hurt and betrayal running through him. “What?”

“Someone… someone I want to be with…” Sherlock raised John’s hand to his mouth and kissed it. “I think I love him.”

Tears filled John’s eyes. 

“He loves me… at least I think he does. I don’t have much experience with love. But… I broke his heart.”

John wanted to pull away, his own heart breaking.

“I… have to go home… he’s my home.”

John succeeded in freeing himself and got out of the bed. “You PRAT!”

Sherlock rolled over to face John, uncertain. “What’s wrong?”

“You… you… SEDUCED me! For what? So you can go back to Fitton?”

“I’m not going back to Fitton…” Sherlock looked confused. “Why would I go back there?”

“Your HOME?” John shot back.

Sherlock blinked and blinked again. “You’re my home.” Rubbing his face he lay down on his back. Squirming a bit he felt John’s semen leaking from his widened orifice. 

John opened and closed his mouth a few times. “You… you were talking about me?”

“Who else would I be talking about?” Idly Sherlock reached down and touched his gaping hole, getting semen on his finger. “This is messy… we’re going to need something to cover the bed next time.” 

“Next time?”

Sherlock frowned and stared up at John. “The next time we fuck? Make love? Intercourse… coitus? Shag? What do you want to call it?”

“I thought this was just a one night stand?”

Sherlock stared, knees up and waving them back and forth. “I liked it.” Looking away he continued to move his legs, feeling the wetness escape. “It IS rather messy, though… luckily these sheets need a good wash. I suppose I can sleep in your bed tonight…”

“Sherlock!” John growled, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t live here… remember?”

Sherlock bit his lip and frowned. “Then I shall go wherever you go. But I do like Baker Street.”

John sat back down on the bed. “And that’s it? You’ll follow me wherever I go and demand shags from me?”

“Don’t pretend that you get nothing out of it…” Sherlock moved across the bed to hug John from behind, face pressed against the other man’s hip. “I can’t guarantee Sherlock Holmes will be the best lover at times… but I will try and satisfy you. Stay with me.”

“And what if you leave me again?”

“It will only be to protect you. If you were killed because of me I couldn’t… function. I need you.”

John rested his hand on Sherlock’s head, feeling the short curls between his fingers. “You don’t have to protect me… I’m a soldier, remember?”

Sherlock blinked and focused on John’s face. “I spent the last two years… the whole time I wanted to go home… to you. I wondered where you were and what you were doing… if you missed me. I starved… froze… suffocated because it brought me one step closer to you.” Sherlock paused to lick John’s hip and then kissed the same spot. “I’m home now… right here with you I’m home. I never want to leave you again… but our lives are dangerous, John. You can’t make me promise not to do it all again if it means you’ll live. You’re worth protecting.”

John sighed and moved so he could lounge against the other man. “You’re worth protecting too, Sherlock.” Lightly he kissed the other man’s forehead. “And I don’t want to sleep with you because you think it will please me and keep me here… I only want you to do it because it makes you feel good.”

“I ejaculated, didn’t I?” Sherlock moved closer.

“I know about you and faking things…”

“I can’t fake an orgasm.” Sherlock kissed his John. 

John kissed back for a moment and then glanced down Sherlock’s body. “Fine… If I’m your lover now I get to make sure you eat.”

“Is that what boyfriends do? Feed you?”

“This boyfriend does. I AM a doctor.” John kissed the other man again and then got up. “We need groceries.”

“And your clothes.” Sherlock commanded from the bed. “You’re moving back in.”

“Fine.” John bent down to kiss Sherlock’s lips again. “Food and clothes.”

Sherlock grinned.

^.~

Arthur looked as if he was about to burst with delight. “I am sitting on Sherlock Holmes’ couch.” As he took a sip of tea he mused, “I am drinking from Sherlock Holmes’ mug.”

“He spent the entire night Googling ‘Sherlock Holmes.’” Douglas informed the assembled.

“I am eating one of Sherlock Holmes’ biscuits…”

“To be fair those biscuits were made by Mrs. Hudson.” John offered.

Arthur paused mid bite to amend his statement. “I am chewing one of Sherlock Holmes’ landlady’s biscuits.” 

“So… John Watson… what is it like to be captain of Sherlock Holmes’ bobsled team?” Douglas asked.

John smirked. “I’m captain, am I?”

“Of course you’re captain, Captain.” Sherlock replied more than a little annoyed that his coworkers had returned to ruin his plans for spending quality alone time with John.

“You’re a captain too… isn’t that nice.” Douglas deadpanned. “A captain of what? Don’t say aeroplane.”

“I was in the army… a surgeon.” 

“So a REAL captain? Should I salute?”

“Please don’t… my army days are long gone.”

“Humble.” Douglas snorted. “Unlike some people I know of…”

Sherlock watched the conversation, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair, annoyed. “I was playing a part. It’s called acting.”

“Whatever Sir says…” Douglas mused. “You seem to think you know Martin rather well. IS he as humble as he claims?”

“Martin or Sherlock?” John asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Touché…” Douglas grinned at that. “Tell me about Sherlock.”

“Sherlock is…” John stared at his lover. “Sherlock is brilliant and he knows it. He is almost always the smartest person in the room and that frustrates him when having to deal with us mortals who don’t follow his logic at the speed of light. But he can be patient when he wants to be… or is trying extra hard to get me to follow him. When I voice what he’s thinking of he looks… pleased… like he genuinely wants someone to understand what’s going on in his head.”

“So you haven’t experienced the awkward prissiness that is Martin Crief?” Douglas asked.

“I did… last night we were introduced. He just seemed… vulnerable.”

“Ah… Martin Crief on the prowl…” 

“In answer to your question, yes he could benefit from a dose of hubris once in a while… but there is a side that not many get to see. If anything I’d say his cockiness is defensive to hide that side.”

“You both know that I’m sitting right here…” Sherlock began.

“I know, Skip.” Arthur reached out and patted Sherlock’s hand.

John gave Sherlock a fond smile. Sherlock gave a fleeting smile back.

“Incredible…” Douglas breathed. “You two…”

John turned to focus on Douglas. “What?”

“I’ve never seen Martin Crief look so… calm… so… at home within his own skin. But there he is… one look from you, John, and he immediately relaxed. I have never seen him do that.”

“Maybe that’s because he’s not really Martin… he’s Sherlock?” John replied. 

“Take good care of him, then.” Douglas got up after checking his watch. “We have to go now Arthur.”

“Ah… do we have to?” Arthur pouted.

“Caroline made it clear.”

Arthur stood and reached out to shake first John and then Sherlock’s hand. “I had a really great time. I hope you come visit us in Fitton… I would really like that.”

“Goodbye Douglas… Arthur… it was… quite the experience working with you.” 

Arthur wrapped his arms around Sherlock had hugged him tight. “I’ll miss you, Skip.”

Awkwardly Sherlock patted Arthur’s arm. “Arthur…”

Douglas dragged the young man away leaving Sherlock and John once again alone. 

“Well… Here we are then…” John mused, staring at the door.

Sherlock stepped up behind John, running his fingers down the other man’s arm. “Yes… here we are.”

John glanced back at his partner. “Will you miss them?”

Sherlock shrugged a bit. “Not as much as I missed you.” Leaning down he lightly nibbled John’s earlobe. 

“That tickles.” John reached up to touch his ear. “Does Mycroft know how long it will take to clear your name?”

“No.” Sherlock resumed his nibbling on John’s neck.

“Are we going to spend all of our time shagging while we wait?”

“Yes.” Sherlock broke into a low chuckle. Wrapping his arms around John he gently pushed the other man towards the bedroom.

“Martin?”

Sherlock stopped and raised his head, giving John a shy smile. “It’s Sherlock.”

John blinked and then brightened. Wrapping his arms around the other man he pushed him into the bedroom, kissing him breathless. With a push onto the bed he climbed atop the other man, continuing his kisses. 

“John…” Sherlock pulled his lips away and gasped.

“Sherlock… my Sherlock…” John resumed his kisses and rolled them over so Sherlock was on top.

Sherlock pulled away and reached out to touch John’s hair. “Is this… how it’s done?”

“How what is done?”

“Relationships?”

“Yes, Love.” John leaned up a bit to catch the other man’s lips. “Do you like it? Like me?”

“I want to try this… with us… But I’ve never done anything like this.”

“Think of Martin… How vulnerable you allowed yourself to be when you pretended to be Martin…”

Sherlock had begun to undo John’s buttons and paused to stare down at the man. “Martin wasn’t real.”

“He’s an aspect of you. Remember what Adler said about playing parts that are close to our own personalities? There’s a vulnerable, bumbling side to you as much as there’s the prissy genius.”

“I don’t want to be Martin right now… I want to shag you senseless as my own self. Am I allowed?”

John sat up a bit forcing Sherlock to do the same. “Of course you can… I’ve just never seen you… act like that.”

“Act like what?”

“Like you wanted to fuck anyone before…”

A sly glint caught in Sherlock’s eyes and he looked down at where his fingers fumbled with John’s shirt buttons. 

“Let me amend… I’ve never seen you when you’re not playing a part. I’ve never seen Sherlock Holmes want anything physical.”

Sherlock’s eyes met John’s and he did the thing where he squinted his lower eyelids as if assessing John. With a blink his eyes softened and then he licked his full lower lip. Leaning down he kissed, pressing his dampened lip against John’s and lightly licking at the seam of his mouth to force it open.

John moaned and lay back down on the bed, forcing Sherlock to follow him. His own hands undid his trousers and opened them. “No doubt you’re analyzing me while you kiss me.”

Sherlock chuckled softly against the other man’s lips. “The moisture of your lips… the taste of your breakfast… the heat of your body…”

“Breakfast? I should go brush my teeth…”

“You will do no such thing. Tea… toast without jam… a hasty breakfast. You were nervous. About us? No… you remembered that Arthur and Douglas would return and you didn’t want to be obvious that you had been fucking me.”

“The way you say that word…”

“What? Fucking? You like that word, John… I can feel your pulse race. You like when I say it… fucking.” Sherlock grinned, his lips mere millimeters from John’s. “Is it the cadence of my voice? Or is it the memory of what you did to me last night? Hmm… it seems to be a little of both. Oh! Now you’re getting hard… interesting.”

John blushed and reached down to adjust himself even though Sherlock was half lounging on his body. Against his own thigh he could feel evidence of Sherlock’s arousal. “You’re hard too.”

“Mmm… I am… My body reacts to yours… your warmth… your scent…” 

“So this is the difference between Martin and Sherlock? Martin would roughly throw me into bed and Sherlock will take his time analyzing my arousal?”

“Martin had the excitement of a one night stand… arousal comes with novel experiences. Sherlock has lived with John for years… there’s no real novelty. I know your body as well as I know my own and yet… and yet I’m still excited by the idea of being with you.”

John idly ran his hands up and down Sherlock’s back as he spoke exploring the other man’s body under the shirt he wore. “So… you want me, then?”

Sherlock blinked and blinked again before leaning down and silencing John’s thoughts with more kisses, forcing his tongue into the other man’s mouth, thrilled when John’s tongue made contact. Every pore of his skin was screaming in the affirmative for John’s question but he didn’t know how to voice it. “Yes” seemed like such a small and insignificant word. Martin would say “yes” but Sherlock would kiss and suckle and John’s skin tasted wonderful. Nipping down the other man’s body as he finally exposed skin he came to John’s core once again. Lightly he kissed the bulge contained in the pants and gently worked down the trousers so he could uncover John completely. Eyes flicking up he gauged John’s reaction.

John panted lightly and reached down to touch Sherlock’s cheek. “You don’t have to do that…”

“You like it.” Sherlock stated simply, lightly licking the tip.

John’s eyes rolled back in his head and somewhere under Sherlock’s thigh the doctor’s toes curled. “It’s not something I expect from you, Sherlock.”

“You let Martin…” Sherlock suckled on the tip, plundering the doctor’s urethra with his tongue.

“Martin ambushed me at the door!”

“Maybe I should ambush you more often…” Sherlock swallowed John down to the base and bobbed on him. Pulling away he fisted the organ. “You really seem to enjoy it.”

“Watching you swallow me is… a wet dream come true but… but I want more.”

Sherlock pulled back a bit, resting his wrists on John’s thighs and blinking up at the other man. “John Watson… You want… Commitment from me… You want reassurance that I won’t get bored and leave you behind. You can’t just share pleasure with me… you want a relationship with snogging and shagging and feeding me. You want to sleep in my bed even if I don’t sleep… just to be near me.”

“Am I that obvious?”

Sherlock gave him a small smile. “There’s nothing I can say to reassure you. You’re already somewhat distrustful considering what I put you through. There’s nothing I can say.” Absently Sherlock’s fingers caressed John’s hard member and scrotum. “I want to be with you. I like the person I am when I’m with you.”

“Thank you.”

“And I enjoy pleasuring you.” Lightly kissing the swollen organ he crawled back up John’s body to rest atop him. “The face you make in coitus… is fascinating.”

John chuckled and then mocked the face he often made, giggling again. 

Sherlock leaned down and kissed the mocking mouth, nibbling at the bottom lip and tasting the warm mouth. 

John sighed and kissed back, wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s still covered shoulders. “You’re wearing too much…”

Quickly Sherlock undressed until he too was once again naked… as he had been earlier in the morning before Douglas and Arthur had arrived. His hips moved, caught between John’s thighs. No effort was made to penetrate his lover… he enjoyed the sensation of their rutting too much. John made sharp gasping noises in his ear as he rubbed shamelessly against the shorter man. John wasn’t ready to share his body completely but frottage was good. Perhaps when the detective proved he could be trusted once again John would allow penetration. Of course Sherlock would never hold back with his own body… as he had proven the previous night. The younger man welcomed the thought of John inside of him. John was already so much a part of him a bit of buggery didn’t make much difference.

“Sit up a bit…” John panted warmly against Sherlock’s ear.

Sherlock obeyed, on his hands and knees over John’s body, he nuzzled and kissed the other man under the chin. A hand caught his bullocks and he moaned, feeling John explore between his legs.

“How does that feel, Sherlock?”

“Your hand is warm… gentle and yet roughened from work. You’ve labored… it has built calluses… and yet your touch is tender and skilled. If I didn’t know any better I would say you’ve touched other men before.”

“I have.” John stated with a grin and a wink. “Army… remember? I’ve held plenty of scrotums in my day.”

“I didn’t mean in that way… Oh…”

John gave the sack a soft squeeze and used his wrist to weigh the length between Sherlock’s legs. His fingers released the scrotum and checked the length and girth of Sherlock’s cock. “Mm… A bit longer than I imagined… uncut…” His thumb flicked over the tip. “Wet.” Pulling his hand up, he tasted his thumb. “Salty.”

Sherlock stared, eyes wide in surprise. 

“What’s wrong?” Offering his thumb, he looked unsure. “Did you want to taste?”

“No… I’ve tasted myself before… I…” Sherlock pulled back to sit on his heels. 

John stayed where he was. “What’s wrong? Sherlock?”

“You’re… touching me… exploring me.”

“That’s what people do when they have sex.” John replied and propped himself up on his elbows. 

Sherlock shook his head and looked confused.

“Really, Sherlock… it’s no big deal. Most couples have a little… um… foreplay. It isn’t all just intercourse.”

“You… tasted me.”

John thought about it a minute. “Yeah? Is that so bad?”

Sherlock found himself blushing and staring down at his hands which rested on his thighs.

John sighed and scooted closer, kneeling beside Sherlock. “Sherlock… it’s fine.” Lightly he caressed Sherlock’s shoulder and chest. Kissing Sherlock’s shoulder his hand slipped back down between the other man’s legs to cup his genitals. John watched Sherlock’s face… watched him close his eyes in a look of guarded bliss. “You like it… what’s wrong?”

“Do you like it, John?”

“I’m doing it, aren’t I?”

“Yes but… you’ve never wanted to be with another man. You’re not gay. You said you want to be mine… but…” As he spoke Sherlock opened his eyes and stared at John. 

John blinked. “I… had sex with you last night… remember?”

“That was different!”

“How? Because you were pretending to be a pilot having a one night stand?”

“Partially… yes. It just occurred to me that last night I was on the bottom. You could easily pretend I was a woman.”

John pulled away. “I wasn’t having sex with a woman… I was having sex with YOU.”

“That’s not what I meant…” Sherlock shook his head.

“Did you think I just went along with it imagining you to be some… woman? You’re Sherlock fucking HOLMES! I never once forgot who I was with last night… even when you asked me to call you Martin. You are Sherlock and you’ll always BE Sherlock!”

“John…”

“MY Sherlock… My Sherlock back from the dead… You overgrown git! I LOVED you! But you broke my heart… BROKE it! I wanted to DIE! I wanted to FOLLOW you! Do you know how many times I thought about following you? I almost asked Mycroft if the grave next to yours was available so we could be buried together… I…” John pulled away and shook his head. “When I saw you two days ago… in that hospital bed… and then hearing about all the adventures you went and had without me… I felt…” John shook his head and got off the bed. 

“Abandoned?” Sherlock whispered.

John nodded. “Abandoned… you didn’t need me. You’ve NEVER needed me. That’s why it was so painful to have you begging me to stay with you… and yet you tried to seduce me. It was a game… a game for you. You pretended to be a pilot and seduced me and then begged me to stay promising me a relationship. But you SEDUCED me!”

“Then why did you let me?”

“I’m not that strong… I loved you… I wanted to show you that.”

“It’s not a game… not really. John… It was never a game. I have no experience… doing this. I meant what I said last night about loving you… Martin could be vulnerable and needy… that’s the character I played. So I could be vulnerable and needy with you by pretending to be Martin. If I was Sherlock… I’d mess it all up like I’m doing right now. Sherlock overthinks things… notices things. He knows you would never seduce another man… and so he’s unsure as to your motives… why you would allow him to…”

“Sherlock, I love you.” John shook his head.

“So…?”

“I want to be with you in any way you’ll have me. I already said I would be your boyfriend. Was I not clear?”

Sherlock shook his head, unsure. 

John returned to the bed and knelt before Sherlock. “I LOVE you.” Taking Sherlock’s hands he held them, massaging the backs of his hands with his thumbs. “All of you. Every part of you…” Up on his knees he kissed Sherlock’s forehead and then started kissing downwards to chin, sternum, belly button and cock.

Sherlock gasped and leaned back, unprepared for John’s mouth to take him so suddenly. One hand kept him from falling backwards, the other entwined itself in John’s hair. “John… Fuck… John…” Helplessly his hips bucked up into John’s heated mouth.

John was better at sucking than Sherlock… of course he had experienced it before and knew what it should feel like. His own body knew what it liked and he applied that knowledge to what he did to Sherlock. With a swipe of his tongue he sat up and glared at Sherlock. “You’re going to fuck me… and then you’re never allowed to doubt my sexuality again. Alright?”

Mutely Sherlock nodded and bit his lip. 

John reached for the lube he had bought while on his grocery run the night before and practically threw it at Sherlock as he lay back to get comfortable. “I’m not gay… I’m BI. I like women but I seem to have a thing for consulting detectives with cheekbones and gorgeous blue eyes. So you better prepare me carefully… I’ve never been with anyone before.”

Sherlock scooted closer and took the lube, pouring it on his fingers, he glanced at John. 

John rolled over onto his hands and knees and presented his arse to Sherlock. The action was embarrassing but he had to take a stand somehow and he trusted that Sherlock wouldn’t mount him without preparing him. A hand touched his thigh and he shifted to open his legs wider. Fingertips lightly touched at his entrance and he closed his eyes. One finger breeched him and he took a deep breath, willing himself to relax. Lips touched his backside and he could feel Sherlock shift to get closer as first one finger and then a second entered him. Only then did he let out a moan.

Sherlock watched in fascination as John’s body accepted his fingers. The warmth was so tight and yet he knew from experience that if he stretched John enough he would be able to fit. Cautiously his fingers began to scissor and he tried adding a third. As he experimented his fingertips brushed against something inside John that made John squeal and raise his head. “Sorry…”

“Fuck… No, Sherlock… that was good… do that again.” 

Sherlock obeyed and watched as John cried out and began to push back onto his fingers. 

John nearly sat up, Sherlock’s fingers imbedded and wiggling. Turning his head he kissed the other man. “Do you want me, Sherlock?”

Mummy Holmes had tried to instill gracious habits into her children… habits a public school reinforced… habits Sherlock had tried his hardest to unlearn… but sometimes old manners emerged… as when he had his fingers wedged into his soul mate’s arse and his own cock was hard as a rock. “Yes, please…” Sherlock replied.

John gently removed Sherlock’s fingers and laid down upon the bed, face up. “Then take me…”

Sherlock obeyed… the only man he would ever really obey with any consistency. His body fit between John’s thighs and legs wrapped around him, holding him close. Blindly he reached down to direct himself in the small, warm orifice his fingers had just vacated. His tip pushed in and he cried out along with John. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined anyplace so warm and tight… so very John… so very home. His length edged in and when he was in they both panted together. Already there was an unwanted tingle at the base that let him know he wouldn’t last very long. “I’m going to…”

John pulled him down and kissed him. “Sherlock Holmes… Trust in my feelings.”

Sherlock nodded and kissed John again.

“I want you. I want to be with you. Do you understand?”

Sherlock whimpered and tried to hold back the flood he knew was coming.

“Sherlock? Oh…” John went still and rubbed Sherlock’s back until the other man began to relax. “Sometimes it helps if you think about cricket… or math. I usually name all the bones in the human body…”

Sherlock raised his head. “You think about cricket when you’re…?”

“If it’s been a while… and I’m extra excited… it helps.”

Sherlock began to move in smooth, deep strokes.

“Thinking about cricket?”

“No… the Periodic Table.” Sherlock replied. His voice hitched and he started muttering elements under his breath to aid in concentration.

“Practice also helps build stamina… as does frequency of sexual encounters.”

“Boron…” 

John chuckled and kissed the man above him. “You’re going to fuck me as hard as you can…”

“Boron…” Sherlock repeated himself, his mind faltering with John’s words. “What if I can’t?”

“Am I the captain of your bobsled team or not?”

Sherlock grinned and started over on the Periodic Table as he held John’s hips and began to push in with each element he named in his head. Hydrogen, Helium… John’s body was so warm and tight around him. Lithium… The faces John made, his eyes on Sherlock’s… The Periodic Table was melting away so Sherlock tried bones instead. Occipital, temporal, mandible… John’s mouth was moving as he muttered sweet nothings, watching Sherlock fuck him. Clavicle… Perhaps he should bite John’s clavicle… mark him with a bruise. That’s what lovers did, right? Marked? John was already marked by the bullet that ended his military career. It required further exploration when he wasn’t busy fucking John. That reminded him to think about the warm heat that engulfed him and once again he felt the familiar tingle. Desperately he tried to refocus on the clavicle and the on the sternum but his cock wouldn’t let him. Sherlock whimpered, feeling his balls tighten.

“It’s alright… it’s alright, Sherlock…” John replied, trying to sooth him. “Let it come.”

All at once he was a sputtering, throbbing mess and he collapsed atop John, frustrated at his lack of concentration, only vaguely aware of John’s whispers. 

“You did good… so good, Love…” John rubbed Sherlock’s shoulders.

Sherlock gave a frustrated groan and rolled off, looking up at John’s smiling face and then back down at John’s erection. Failure flooded him.

“Sherlock… It was very good.”

“You didn’t finish.”

John took Sherlock’s hand and wrapped it around himself. Gently he coaxed the hand to make long strokes. “Like that.”

Sherlock watched with interest as John gave a strangled sigh, lying back as Sherlock’s hand stroked him. Scooting down he took the tip in his mouth as his hand pumped and John seemed to curl up around his head. 

“Sherlock… Oh god, Sherlock…” John moaned. “I don’t need much… Ok… I’m about to… You’re not going to like it… Sherlock!”

But Sherlock didn’t pull away and so when John came it shot into the back of his throat and he choked but swallowed. Pulling off he took a position next to John and awkwardly wrapped an arm around the other man’s body.

“I tried to warn you.”

“I heard.” Sherlock replied, licking his lips and swallowing any remains he found in his mouth.

“Are we… alright?” John bit his lips and stared up at the ceiling. “No more doubts?”

Sherlock moved closer, resting his head on John’s shoulder, surrounding the shorter man. “You’re the captain of my bobsled team…”

“I’d like to always be the captain of your bobsled team…”

“It’s… a lifetime position… if you want it.”

“I do.”

“Good…” Sherlock smirked. “I’ll have Mycroft bring the papers for you to sign.”

“Wait… what did I just ask to be?” John raised his head and stared at the giggling consulting detective. “Sherlock?”

Sherlock wrapped his arms around his John and held him close, never wanting to let go… relieved to be home at last.

\--Fin


End file.
